‘I durnd know as I want to be one afore mi time,
Malachi: an’ I’m noan baan to do
as they do till I ged amang ’em. I’d
as soon pool a warp ony day as play a harp; but when
th’ Almeety skifts me fro’ th’ Brig
Factory to heaven, mebbe I’ll shap as weel at
a bit o’ music as ony on yo’.’

‘Wilto play thi music o’er sich as Amanda,
thinksto?’ asked old Malachi.

‘And yet, after all,’ said Dr. Hale, ’I
think we ought to receive Amanda back again into our
communion. The only One who ever forgave sins
drew no line as to their number, nor shade as to their
degree.’

‘But durnd yo’ think, doctor, that if
we do as yo’ want us we’s be turnin’
th’ Church into a shoddy hoile?’ asked
Elias Bradshaw.

‘There are no shoddy souls,’ said the
doctor.

‘No,’ continued Mr. Penrose; ’it
was not shoddy that Christ came to seek and save.’

‘Who wur it said th’ gate were strait
and th’ road narro’?’ cried out
an old man who was always known by the name of ‘Clogs.’

‘That’s no reason why yo’ should
want to turn th’ gate into a steele-hoile (stile),
is it?’ retorted Malachi.

‘Gate or steele-hoile, it’s narro’;
and that’s enugh for me, an’ it were noan
us ut made it narro’; it wur th’ Almeety
Hissel’,’ replied Clogs.

‘At any rate, He made it wide enough for Amanda,’
said Dr. Hale, ‘and that is the matter we are
now considering.’